


Mall Santas and Mistletoe

by moonstalker24



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Black Friday shenanigans, Christmas Fluff, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Steter Secret Santa 2015, Ugly Sweaters, mall santas, mistletoe kisses, too much hot chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstalker24/pseuds/moonstalker24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Friday at the mall with the boys.</p>
<p>Secret Santa gift for the lovely SushiOwl!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mall Santas and Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SushiOwl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Mall Santas and Mistletoe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449447) by [TinARu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinARu/pseuds/TinARu)



> For the Steter Secret Santa this year I got SushiOwl, who I love and adore, so I wanted to do justice here.
> 
> When I got the notification it was included that TheShushiOwl wanted fluffy holiday fun. When I sent my anonymous ask, I was given a long list of really awesome ideas to elaborate on that fluffy feels request. Including: Black Friday, posing with mall santas, ice skating, snowman contests, mistletoe kisses, mexican hot chocolate, ugly sweaters, and the delivery of leftovers.
> 
> I tried to combine as many of those into one as I could. :) It was fun.
> 
> I apologize that this was late, as it was supposed to be posted on the 19th. Unfortunately, I am currently working two jobs and one of those jobs is in retail, and as it is December I'm just too busy to have much time. I'm proud of myself for only being a day late; I'm feeling kind of burnt out on the work front, but also on the writing front after Nano.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, SushiOwl!

**Mall Santas and Mistletoe**

 

Peter isn’t sure how he ended up agreeing to be here. Here being standing in the housewares department of Sears at eight in the morning the day after Thanksgiving. He’d been talked in circles until he hadn’t known what he’d been agreeing to. Then he’d been unceremoniously dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour. His coffee had been stolen, and he’d had to stand in line for nearly two hours in the freezing dawn hours.

“Stiles.”

Stiles ignores him, continuing to glare imminent death over the Kitchenaid display at the scruffy, plaid clad man across it. Peter heaves a sigh and and sets a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Darling,” he drawls, watching the much larger man warily, “It’s too early in the morning for murder.”

The corners of Stiles’ mouth draw downward, “It’s my mixer.”

It is Stiles’ mixer… at least as far as Peter is concerned. It’s shiny and black, and a full size stand mixer that Stiles has done nothing but talk about for nearly six months. The other man looks ready to start throwing punches, but Stiles looks ready to start using the display model’s attachments to stab him to death. Peter catches his gaze, holds it, and lets all of his inner psychotic mania show in his eyes, all while keeping the mild expression on his face.

“I do believe we got here first,” Peter informs the man calmly. If his pleasant smile holds too much fang for polite society, no one here will tell. “You may have the red one, but the black one belongs to us.”

The scruffy man’s nostrils flare, and he clenches his jaw, making the veins in his neck bulge. Peter straightens his posture, locks eyes with their opponent and stoops over to pick up the box with the last black mixer into his arms. “Have a pleasant day,” Peter tells the nameless man, then turns and leads Stiles off toward the nearest checkout counter.

Once they’ve settled into line behind a woman laden with two giant vases and a television, Peter glances at the man at his side. Stiles is beaming at him like Peter just won them the lottery.

“What?” Peter asks.

“I love you,” Stiles tells him. “You’re willing to kill strangers for me, just so I can have stupid material objects.”

Peter smirks, “I let you drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn, and yet my threatening a mountain man is what gets your engine revving?”

“What can I say, your wolfy side gets me all hot and bothered.”

Peter laughs at the cheekiness of Stiles’ statement, shaking his head. Stiles leans over and kisses the werewolf’s cheek as a thank you. Peter tilts his head and steals a real kiss, then pulls away to put the mixer on the checkout counter, “We’re taking this out to the car before we tackle the rest of the mall.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles tells his back, grinning.

*

They pass Santa’s Village twice. Once on their way out to the car, and once on the way back. Stiles looks contemplatively from Santa’s Village to Peter and back again both times. Peter knows Stiles, knows how he thinks.

“No, Stiles.”

“Oh, come on!” Stiles exclaims. “It would be hilarious!”

“More like it would be humiliating,” Peter intones drolly, taking Stiles’ arm to lead him away from the brightly colored and brightly lit monstrosity that already has families starting to line up outside it.

“But the pictures,” Stiles whines.

“I’m not sitting on Santa’s lap so that you can have pictures,” Peter tells him.

Stiles heaves a sigh and lets Peter drag him away. He may have subsided for now, but the argument is far from over.

*

They wind their way through three other stores before Stiles insists that he needs hot chocolate or he’ll keel over and die right here. Two of the stores were a bust, and in the third they barely managed to find a soft blue scarf for Isaac. So they find a kiosk selling mexican hot chocolate and Stiles praises it after every sip, hands cradled around his venti sized cup like he thinks someone might randomly try to steal it.

Peter gets to enjoy a few sips of his before Stiles steals that too, but he spots a display of truly vile Christmas sweaters in a shop window and has to go into the store to look at them more closely. Stiles follows happily because he’s got a second hot chocolate to keep him company.

The thing about holiday themed clothing is, no matter what holiday it is, if it’s in sweater format you’ve got a nine in ten chance of said sweater being a horrifying eyesore. If Stiles is going to make him pose for Christmas card photos, Peter is wearing one of said horrifying eyesores, and so is Stiles. He has every intention of insulting everyone’s sensibilities if he’s going to suffer the indignity.

He finally settles for one in green and one in red. They’re both Star Wars themed, which will make Stiles happy… but they’re Christmas themed Star Wars sweaters; which mostly just makes them strange.

Bearable to wear, but strange enough to start a conversation over. They’re perfect.

“I need to sit,” Stiles says after Peter has bought the sweaters and they’ve left the shop.

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t I’m going to throw up on you,” Stiles says, a hand cradling his stomach.

It isn’t that he drank two giant cups of hot chocolate that’s doing him in. It’s the fact that he drank said cups of hot chocolate in the space of about fifteen minutes. Too much, too fast will make anyone feel nauseated.

Peter leads him over to a nearby bench and they sit to wait for the nausea to subside.

Peter at least, finally has time to buy and actually drink a cup of coffee.

*

“I still think you should sit on Santa’s lap. Preferably in that sweater.”

“Not happening.”

Stiles shrugs and continues into the Christmas themed shop. It’s one of those pop up kind that go into the mall in November and are gone on the first of January. Stiles likes places like these because you can find some of the weirdest (and some cool stuff, too) stuff in places like these. They’ve finished getting all the gifts they can here, so they take their time wandering around the store.

They marvel at the displays of outdoor decorations, admire the decorated trees. They mock a lot of the novelty stuff. Eventually Stiles finds it. It’s a green headband with a clear stem extending a foot over the top, ending in a sprig of plastic mistletoe that weighs it down enough to make it curve down and hover a few inches over Stiles’ face.

It’s perfect. He puts it on and goes to find Peter.

Peter is standing in the aisle lined with elegant glass ornaments. He’s admiring a set of blue and gold ones when Stiles pulls up next to him. It takes him a moment to notice something is strange, but when he does he turns. Then he has to laugh.

“Really?”

Stiles is grinning like he got the canary, “Yep.”

He bounces in place, making the sprig of mistletoe bob up and down in an ungainly manner. The headband starts to slip, so Peter reaches out and pushes it back into place with an amused chuckle. He leans in and gives Stiles the expected kiss.

They’re both smiling when they pull apart.

“Come on,” Peter tells him softly. “Let’s go find the wrapping kiosk, I am not spending three hours wrapping all this stuff.”

“Yeah okay,” Stiles says agreeably, “but you’d better kiss me again first, there’s still mistletoe over our heads. We wouldn’t want it to follow us home.”

Peter shakes his head, chuckling, but does as instructed. He gathers up their bags and leads the way from the store.

And if Stiles shells out nearly ten bucks for the mistletoe headband before they leave, it’s nobody’s business but theirs.

 

 


End file.
